I adored the playwright Wendy Wasserstein for many reasons, one of which was that we shared an overwhelming love of chocolate. Wendy once announced her engagement to a four-foot tall chocolate bunny in the window of Lilac chocolate, which was then located on Christopher Street.
Wendy and I were once both in a very bad mood about something or other, so to cheer ourselves up we went to a favorite candy store located in the Citicorp building on Lexington Avenue. We bought huge brown paper bags filled with chocolate-covered raisins and other treats, and we wandered through the building’s atrium. A local acting troupe was performing excerpts from Shakespeare on a platform in the atrium. Wendy and I were making so much noise with our chatter and our brown paper bags that a security guard asked us to leave.
Before the rise of the cupcake shop, Manhattan was filled with chocolate chip cookie stores. The most renowned chain was called David’s, and David’s cookies were large, delicious and filled with still warm, melted chocolate chunks. Wendy had gone to college with the woman who was married to David. Using this connection, Wendy and I had dinner at the restaurant which David owned on Third Avenue. Our dinner consisted of a cake which David had generously baked for us, made entirely out of layers and layers of chocolate chip cookies.
There was a branch of David’s Cookies right across the street from my apartment, which was also on Christopher Street. I went to this store pretty much every day, but sadly, almost no one else did. I was there so often that the staff asked me why I thought the store wasn’t more successful. I told them that I was doing my best.
Wendy died far too young, at 55, after an especially terrible illness. I’d like to think that wherever she is now, there are bunnies and cookies and no need for dieting.
